


Everything Has a Price

by dysis



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: AU/Fantasy, Explicit Sex, Hair Pulling, Language, M/M, Mirrors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-11-15
Updated: 2004-11-15
Packaged: 2019-04-16 13:19:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14165697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dysis/pseuds/dysis
Summary: Disclaimer:Don’t own them, don’t get (or got) any money, so please don’t sue.Pairing:1x4, 4x3Rating:NC-17Warnings:Language, explicit sex, AU/fantasy, hair pulling, mirrors, much longer than the required 1000 words *sheepish grin*Archived:On my writing LJ (dysisfaye).  Ask if you want it.Story ©Starsinger; Characters © Gundam Wing and its owners.  Written for AKA Anonymous for theGundam Wing Back-to-SchoolFicathonSmutathon).  Hope you like it!Quatre is jealous of Trowa’s attraction to another man and picks a fight, only to learn that sometimes attraction isn’t so easy to control.





	Everything Has a Price

Quatre cursed his empathy. If it hadn't been for his sensitivity to emotions, he never would have Felt his lover's attraction to one of the men at the party, a brunette with teasing violet eyes and a long braid. If he hadn't Felt Trowa's interest, his old insecurities wouldn't have translated into jealousy and anger, and he wouldn't have picked the fight that ended in him storming out of the house. And if _that_ hadn't happened, he wouldn't now be lost in this dark, decrepit alley, far from both the party and his dorm room.

Quatre sighed. The worst thing about it was that he couldn't entirely blame Trowa for his feelings. Or rather he could, but then he'd need to blame himself as well. If Quatre were to be entirely honest (which he'd really prefer not to be at this precise moment), those wicked eyes had made _him_ wonder if they could deliver what they promised. But Trowa's perceived betrayal had banished all rational thought and driven him to storm out like an adolescent who thought his lover belonged to him, body and soul.

Now that he thought about it, the complete irrationality of his response – and the furious verbosity of his usually reserved lover – was unusual. Quatre had trained himself from a young age to be calm in any situation, to the extent that it had caused problems for him in past relationships. He was the heir to the Winner fortune, and, had been dealing with sensitive and touchy situations since he was a young teenager. Even now that he was in university, his dorm mates automatically came to him to solve their arguments and fights. He'd worked hard to maintain his serenity and neutrality, and he wasn't sure why he had gone off like that.

Unfortunately, the why of the situation was irrelevant at the moment. Walking off his anger had seemed like a good idea at the time, but while he'd been putting as much distance between him and Trowa as possible, he'd walked into what had to be the dangerous part of the city. He had no idea where he was in relation to the party he'd walked out on, nor did he know how to get home.

Quatre swore under his breath and paused by one of the few lamps that had yet to be shot out. He didn't have a watch, but he guessed it was well past midnight. That meant he'd been walking for a couple of hours at least, and the dorms could be anywhere. Quatre glanced around, searching for a landmark he recognized, and realized that the street he was on was becoming more populated by the moment. These were not people Quatre particularly wanted to meet in daylight, let alone in the night that was their preferred playtime, and especially not in carefully tailored clothing that proclaimed his wealth.

"Hey baby, looking for some company?" a harsh female voice asked from the shadows behind him. The hand that reached enticingly toward him as the woman stepped forward was pale and dirty, and only Quatre's innate courtesy kept him from wrinkling his nose at her smell.

"No thank you, ma'am," he replied politely. He considered buying another service from her: directions home. He held no illusions about the altruism of her nature; he could Feel the greed rolling off her in waves, but for the right price, she might sell the information he needed. The question was whether she would know how to get from here back to his dorm, and whether she'd give him accurate directions if she did know. She might decide it was a better deal to lead him to her pimp so he could beat Quatre up and rob him.

Before he could decide, the whore glanced behind him apprehensively and shrugged. "Your loss, sugar," she said. She was smirking, but she looked about ready to run. "You should have taken me up on my offer." Quatre turned around to see what made her so nervous.

"Begone, woman," a man said. His voice was darkly sensual, but the woman obeyed the clear note of command. Her speed in disappearing caused Quatre to shift his weight discreetly and curl his hands into loose fists. No matter what the voice was doing to his insides, he wanted to be prepared.

Unfortunately, he couldn't see the owner of the voice clearly. The man was standing just outside the pool of light that illuminated Quatre so well.

"Lost, bright angel?" the man asked. His voice was faintly accented - Asian, Quatre decided. Probably Chinese. "This is a dangerous place for one like you." The stranger's voice was hypnotically reassuring, and the blond found himself relaxing his fighting stance. The man stepped into the light, passing Quatre. "Follow me," he said over his shoulder.

Quatre stared after him. The man's beauty was like a punch to the gut. If Quatre's blue eyes and blond hair caused him to resemble the bright angel the man named him, then this man was Lucifer, the angel born of shadows. His intense eyes and shoulder-length, silky hair were as black as night. He was slightly taller than Quatre, wearing an open dark blue shirt and tight black leather pants that laced up the sides. He was slender, but Quatre could see the wiry strength in his muscles. That didn't fully explain the whore's nervous reaction, though, and nothing could explain Quatre's immediate willingness to trust him. Quatre normally wasn't that trusting.

In only a moment, the stranger was past, heading down the street. He moved with a sensuous grace that caused Quatre's pants to tighten, and Quatre quickly shifted his attention elsewhere. He realized then that whatever power the man had over the street people faded with distance: greedy, violent eyes were carefully evaluating Quatre's apparent wealth, and Quatre could Feel their desire to jump him as soon as the dark-haired man was far enough away. So before the stranger got too far ahead, Quatre hurried after him. Better one possible opponent than several, he justified to himself.

Besides, he didn't Feel any danger from the man. That didn't mean there wouldn't be any in the future, however. Extending his empathy further, he Felt a mild impatience, and then a strong pulse of lust.

Quatre blushed and tried to close it off with limited success. "Where are you taking me?" he asked quickly. He wanted to know the man's name, but decided it would be better not to ask.

"To someone who will help you find yourself." The man's voice promised sensual pleasure like Quatre had never felt before. He clamped down hard on his hormones while at the same time registering the ambiguity of the reply. The man must have caught his expression in a passing window, because Quatre Felt faint amusement at his confusion, along with the ever-present sensual desire. The stranger glanced back with a brief smile that caused Quatre's groin to tighten further. "I'll take you to the Club. The Master knows everything about this city," the man informed him. "And you may call me Wufei.

"Master?!" Quatre protested, ignoring the twinges in his cock. He paused in the middle of the street. Wufei reached back and grabbed Quatre's hand to pull him along impatiently.

"The Master runs the club," he said, glancing sideways at Quatre out of amused black eyes. "Although he’s usually open to a more ... intimate ... relationship with those that intrigue him. If that's what you want." His voice was silky smooth, and Quatre shivered, yanking his hand back.

"No, thank you," he replied. The electric shock he'd received at Wufei's touch made him wish he'd grabbed his coat before storming out: his nipples were taut and he had the uncomfortable feeling Wufei knew exactly how aroused he was.

Aware that more time in Wufei's company wasn't likely to alleviate his tension, Quatre asked diffidently, "Would you happen to know if there's a phone nearby? I could just call a taxi – then you wouldn't have to bother the Master." He wanted to go home, jump Trowa, and apologize for his behaviour this evening, in that order. After his lustful reaction to Wufei, he didn't really have the right to get uptight over Trowa's reaction to the violet-eyed boy.

Wufei smiled slowly, and Quatre could Feel his amusement again, though he wasn't sure what Wufei found so funny. "He'll find it a pleasure."

They walked in silence for a time, and then Wufei waved his hand down some stairs at a door guarded by bouncers. It was late enough that all the partiers must have already been inside, because there was no line up. Quatre glanced up. This building was in much better repair than the ones surrounding it.

"Here," Wufei said, waiting for Quatre to descend. Wufei was obviously well-known here, because they weren't challenged, nor did they have to pay a cover charge. Rather, one of the two large, well-muscled men opened the door for them and informed him, "The Master's expectin' ye."

Quatre followed Wufei through the door, which clanged shut behind them. The hallway they were in was quite dark, and the decorations were clearly designed to arouse. There were lush couches placed at various points down the hallway, and the picutres on the wall portrayed people in various sexual positions, from the commonplace to the impossible. When Wufei caught Quatre staring unbelievingly at one group in a sex swing, the Asian man met his gaze with a knowing smile, his eyes half-lidded. Quatre flushed.

"Come," Wufei told Quatre. "Everything you need is in the club." He didn't wait for Quatre's answer. Quatre, following, wrenched his gaze from Wufei's swaying hips with effort.

The coat check was at the end of the hallway. The girl who stood there had bright blue hair and eyes, and she smiled suggestively at Quatre. "Can I take anything for you?" The way her eyes looked him up and down left no question as to what she meant.

Quatre wasn't given the opportunity to reply. "He's here for the Master's help, woman," Wufei told her warningly.

The girl's eyes flicked to Wufei's, then returned speculatively to Quatre. She was eyeing him like he was something delicious – just as Wufei did, actually, except without the knowing laughter.

"Well. Have fun, sexy," she told him, winking. "The Master ... he likes to help people."

Quatre smiled uncertainly at her, then followed Wufei to the door. Wufei bowed slightly. "Welcome to Pleasures," he said.

Quatre glanced at him. "I've never heard of this club."

Wufei shrugged one shoulder. "It's very exclusive," he replied silkily. "You should be honoured."

Quatre hesitated, then opened the door and stepped inside.

The first thing he noticed was the music - it hit him like a physical force, the deep line of the base throbbing through his entire body. Quatre shivered, feeling his heart speed up to match the pounding of the drums. The lights came next, dark purples and reds intermixed with a black light that illuminated flashes of white skin and clothing. Almost on the heels of that came the emotions.

When he was younger, Quatre had avoided large gatherings of people because being around too many of them tended to overload his empathy, particularly when they especially were emotional. He wouldn't be able to trust his own senses or feelings, even his own body, because he'd be picking up on what those around him were feeling.

As he'd grown, he'd learned to control his empathy in most situations. When he was overly sensitive, however, already fighting his body and his empathy as he was now, he found it difficult.

It didn't help that the lust the people in this room were feeling so closely echoed his own current state. With the added stimulation, Quatre was having an even harder time keeping control of his own hormones. He'd thought his attraction to Wufei was bad; this was that multiplied by fifty or more. The lights, the music, the red and black of the decor - all of it was calculated to inspire sexual excess and exhibitionism.

Making things even worse, Wufei led them straight through the middle of the dance floor rather than to the side, where Quatre noticed only a few people on the lush couches. The dancers, clad mostly in leather bondage gear and little else, had no compunction about fondling him as fervently as their dance partners. In fact, he garnered so much attention from the erotically writhing dancers that he found his path blocked. He could feel himself growing hard under their groping touches, and their passionate emotions made it difficult to remember why he was there. Finally, Wufei seemed to notice his plight, insinuating himself in the circle and pressing against Quatre's back. "Coming?" he whispered in Quatre's ear. Quatre bit back a moan, his control held only by the very thinnest of threads. Wufei slipped an arm around his waist, teasing fingers dancing along Quatre's side, and guided him out of the circle of dancers. They, seeing who he was with, gave the two room to pass.

When they reached the other side of the dance floor and Wufei let go, Quatre's clothing and hair were much more dishevelled than they had been. He put himself to rights as best he could, taking the opportunity to try to firm up his control over his empathy and hormones. He eyed the relatively empty space between the couches and the dance floor, wondering with frustration why Wufei couldn't have led them that way instead.

Wufei followed his glance and smirked. "Watch," he murmured into Quatre's ear, "if you enjoy that sort of thing." Suddently, a man arched back over the armrest of the nearest couch, his face twisted with passion, and Quatre wrenched his eyes away. Perhaps the dance floor had been the safer route after all.

Wufei laughed. "No?" he asked mockingly. Quatre was irritated to find even that rude voice arousing.

"So where's this Master of yours?" he demanded with less than his usual courtesy.

"So eager?" Wufei murmured quietly. Then he waved to a room directly in front of them. Quatre wasn't sure how he'd managed to miss the opening. "Go ahead, then, bright angel."

Quatre stepped forward. The music was slightly muted in this room, although the sensual, throbbing beat was still perfectly audible. Unlike the rest of the club, this room was completely unlit, or at least Quatre thought it was until he slowly made out a man in front of him. His eyes must have just needed adjusting. The only other explanation would be that the man had begun to glow with a faint, unearthly luminescence, and that, of course, was impossible.

Only the man, who could be none other than the Master to whom Wufei had referred, was visible, leaning on his elbow on a faintly Middle Eastern couch. He was possibly one of the most well-built, perfectly-proportioned men Quatre had ever seen. His bare chest gleamed as if oiled, and his hair was tousled, as if he'd just been through a rather strenuous workout. His cobalt blue eyes were darkly sensual, but Quatre focused on them rather than on that sexy chest, hoping to avoid the slow coiling of heat low in his belly. It didn't work, however; the man met Quatre's determined eyes with amusement and allowed his gaze to drift slowly down Quatre's body. Quatre felt the force of that gaze like a caress. He tightened his muscles in an attempt to control his visceral reaction, a reaction much stronger than the one he'd had to Wufei, but he could feel his nipples becoming taut and sensitive, and his cock was half-hard. Involuntarily, Quatre mirrored the man's appraisal. The Master's feet were bare under forest-green, silk, drawstring pants. Quatre stomped on the urge to pull the string and see what was beneath those pants.

"Wufei told me you could help me?" he said quickly. Damn; he hadn't meant to sound so uncertain. He pretended he was speaking to a recalcitrant board of directors. "I need ..."

"I know what you need, Quatre." The Master's voice was deep and husky. Quatre was too busy trying to hide his reaction to wonder how the man knew his name.

"So you can help me then," he said. He was surprised to find that he sounded more like his normal self, because he felt tightly wound with sexual tension. Glancing around for a phone was a good excuse to avoid looking at the embodiment of pure sex in front of him, but the room, other than where the Master lounged, was really too dark to make anything out.

Quatre's eyes were drawn back to the Master when he stood. He moved to stand in front of Quatre so quickly that the blond barely saw him move, and smiled slowly. "I can help you, yes," he purred. "You may call me Heero."

Quatre flushed, feeling that sexy rumble stroke over his body. He shoved his hands in his pockets again, trying to conceal the arousal that threatened to tent his pants, and was proud of himself when he managed to keep his voice even. "Thank you. Where's the phone, then?" The sexual energies here were getting to Quatre, and he thought uncomfortably that he was enjoying it a little more than he should be.

Heero's eyes flashed with a wicked light, almost like he'd read Quatre's mind. All he said, however, was "You're lost." He stalked around Quatre, who followed him warily with his eyes. Ignoring Quatre's question about the phone, he continued silkily, "I can help you find your way out. For a price."

Quatre felt more comfortable now that he was on familiar ground: everything had a price, and he was good at bargaining. "How much?" he asked, confident he'd be able to pay whatever price Heero asked.

Heero stroked a finger down Quatre's arm, and leaned in so that his lips were almost brushing Quatre's ear. "Now, now, Quatre," he whispered, his breath tickling against Quatre's neck. "Money is so crass, don't you think?" His arm snaked around Quatre's waist, and his tongue slipped out to trace the curves of Quatre's ear.

Quatre shivered, though he tried not to. "Wh ... What then?" he asked huskily.

"Pleasure," Heero drawled as if it should be obvious, and he nipped at Quatre's ear lobe.

Quatre's attempt to pull away was only partially in protest to Heero's words – the man was terribly distracting. "You're kidding." It was more question than offended statement, and plaintive at that. Quatre was already falling under Heero's seductive spell, and when Heero's grip turned out to be stronger than Quatre had expected, he didn't struggle to get away.

Heero, however, released him anyway, slipping his hand down to merely encircle Quatre's wrist. His thumb traced intimate patterns on the sensitive skin. His eyes seemed to burn into Quatre's, and the smaller man felt his heart speed up with Heero's proximity.

Quatre could feel himself becoming aroused just standing next to Heero. The Master's eyes seemed to reach deep inside him, stimulating him. The simple touch on the inside of his wrist was beginning to feel more stimulating than most full-on sexual experiences.

The increase in desire was subtle at first, and Quatre brushed it aside as best he could. As Quatre shifted uncomfortably, though, feeling his cheeks flush with arousal, he slowly realized that not everything he was feeling came from him. Realizing that he was completely open, empathically speaking, Quatre began to fight the sensations he was Feeling. His free hand fisted at his side as his nipples became so sensitive that every time his shirt brushed against them, he shuddered under a bolt of lust. He fought the need to rock his hips, to step into the cradle of Heero's body and thrust frantically until he found fulfillment.

And then the sensations stopped abruptly, leaving Quatre tense and panting. Heero released Quatre's wrist and walked with catlike grace back to his couch, where he sat with indolent ease. "Do we have a bargain, Quatre?" Heero asked calmly, his voice showing no evidence of any desire. He picked up a crystal decanter and poured two glasses of an amber liquid. The glass lid clinked musically as Heero replaced it.

When those sensual eyes flicked up and caught Quatre in their gaze, demanding an answer, the vehement "No!" Quatre knew he should be giving became a breathy, needy, "Yes."

Heero smiled slowly at Quatre, and the blond felt a flash of happiness at having pleased him. He walked forward and took the glass Heero offered him. He wished he could say he was trying to figure out why he'd agreed, but as much as he hated to admit it, he wanted this. He wanted the fulfillment Heero's eyes promised with a desperation that disturbed him even as it attracted him. He'd never felt this strong a feeling of lust before, and it overwhelmed all thought of betrayal or infidelity. Trowa simply wasn't even on his mind right now; he thought of nothing but appeasing his overwhelming need.

The liquid Heero'd poured appeared to be a liqueur. Quatre didn't recognize it, but it gently burned its way down, leaving behind a warmth that set his senses tingling. "What is this?" he asked.

Heero took Quatre's hand and pulled him unresistingly to sit beside him on the couch. "Do you like it?"

"Mmm," Quatre replied dreamily. It felt like every sense in his body was alive. He remembered hearing of drugs that awoke the senses like this, but Quatre couldn't muster any real sense of alarm.

"It's not a drug, nor is it illegal, Quatre," Heero informed him. He sounded amused. "Just alcohol - although I imagine that it's a bit more potent than you're used to."

Quatre frowned - surely he hadn't said anything aloud? - but Heero's hand on his thigh as the taller man leaned across him to replace his glass on the tray beside the couch distracted him.

Heero laughed, a deep-throated, vibrating rumble that sent sparks of arousal up and down Quatre's body. "You're very easy to read, Quatre," Heero said. "Everything you feel shows on your face." He snapped his fingers, and a light came up in front of them, illuminating a floor-to-ceiling mirror Quatre hadn't been able to see before. At the same time, he lithely slipped a leg around Quatre so that the blond was pushed forward slightly, cradled between Heero's thighs. The Quatre in the mirror was flushed with desire, and Quatre could see his body's very physical reaction to Heero's nearness. He blushed further.

Heero pulled Quatre's shirt out of his pants and slipped one hand inside to rest warmly against Quatre's belly. "Now," he purred into Quatre's ear. "I believe we said something about pleasure?"

Suddenly, what limited control Quatre had over his empathy was gone, overloaded with pure sensation. Heero brushed his left hand over Quatre's cheek, then tangled his hand in Quatre's hair and used that to tug the blond's head towards him. With the same movement, he covered Quatre's mouth with his own, swallowing the other's whimper of need. Heero lightened the kiss briefly, teasing and nibbling Quatre's lips before devouring his mouth once again. Quatre tangled his tongue with Heero's and reached up to pull the Master's mouth more firmly against his own.

And then he moaned throatily into the other man's mouth, his eyes dilating as Heero pulled more strongly on his hair. His hips bucked upwards, although there was nothing for them to rub against. Heero tugged on his hair again, and Quatre wrenched himself around, straddling Heero's lap without ever allowing his mouth to slip from Heero's. He ran his nails down Heero's chest. His hips thrust demandingly against Heero's groin.

Heero pulled Quatre's head back, baring his throat to Heero's erotic mouth. He swirled his tongue around the base, tasting Quatre's fluttering heartbeat. Quatre dug his fingers into Heero's arms, wordlessly begging for more.

Heero, however, released him and pulled back. "Take off your shirt."

The tone of Heero's voice suggested that he was used to being obeyed, but Quatre decided that Heero was entirely too controlled. He stood up and looked down at him out of falsely innocent eyes.

"My shirt?" he asked, toying with the top button. He slipped it free, then another one. Heero's expression didn't change. Quatre undid another two buttons, and slid his hand inside his shirt. He watched Heero intently as he flicked his own nipples lightly with his finger, then had to bite back a moan of his own at the stimulation. The Master smiled, raising an eyebrow. Quatre stopped and pulled his hand out. "Maybe later," he decided. He bent forward, one knee on the couch, and began to suck and lick at Heero's nipples. Surely that would elicit a reaction.

If Heero did respond to Quatre's ministrations, Quatre didn't notice. He was too preoccupied with the way his own nipples were hardening in pleasure, as if it were Heero's mouth on them rather than the other way around. He swirled his tongue over the dark brown nub in front of him and a corresponding pulse of lust went straight to his groin. Quatre finally pulled back, groaning, and Heero smirked at him. Then he pushed Quatre down with one quick movement. Heero ran his hands into Quatre's half-open shirt, flicking the tips of his fingers mercilessly against Quatre's nipples just as Quatre had done teasingly earlier.

Quatre lost all pretense at control. "Please," he begged, writhing under the other man's touch. "Heero!"

Heero leaned forward and bit Quatre's neck, and the blond's hips jerked involuntarily, the slight pain turning into sinful pleasure. "I intend to make this last, Quatre. You needn't think you'll find fulfillment so easily." He made his way slowly down Quatre's body, opening the remaining buttons on Quatre's shirt with his teeth. Heero's legs pinned Quatre's hips so he couldn't move under Heero's erotic torment. Pushing the shirt open, Heero plucked at Quatre's nipples. Each touch seemed to send a bolt of fire to Quatre's cock, and he squirmed, frustrated. Heero was stronger than Quatre and prevented him from gaining the friction he so desperately wanted.

Heero watched Quatre's pleasure with dark eyes, and Quatre could tell that he was enjoying it. His expression seemed almost hungry, as if he were feeding off it in some way.

All of a sudden, Heero thrust his hips forward, grinding his erection against Quatre's. Quatre's eyes dilated and he cried out, a primal sound of need and lust, arching his hips upward in desperate desire. Heero slipped one hand between their bodies to cup and fondle Quatre's cock through his pants. He used the other to prop himself up over Quatre, lowering his head to trace patterns on Quatre's neck with his tongue. Quatre moaned, one hand tangled in Heero's hair, clutching his head to Quatre's neck; the other fisted in the material of his pants, opening and clenching wildly. Heero's mouth and hands were driving Quatre closer to the edge, and he strained towards the rapture that awaited him.

Heero decreased the contact as swiftly as he'd increased it, lifting his entire body so that he wasn't touching Quatre anywhere.

"Heero!" Quatre cried, unable to stop his hips from thrusting jerkily up a few times, craving the contact. "What the ..." Quatre pushed himself up into a sitting position, so turned on he was ready to do battle. His eyes shot fire in Heero's direction. The fire burned for another reason, however, when his eyes were drawn down to Heero stroking his cock through his silk pants. "Oh, Allah," Quatre moaned. He reached down to touch himself, but Heero wouldn't let him.

"I can't fuck you if you're still fully clothed," he pointed out throatily.

Quatre wasn't used to being the bottom, but it didn't even occur to him to argue. He stood up, his open shirt whispering unheeded to the floor, and quickly discarded the rest of his clothing. There was a certain sensual beauty to his haste.

Heero certainly seemed appreciative. He licked his lips slowly, and Quatre's gaze was transfixed. Then, hand still lazily stroking his cock, Heero leaned forward and lapped up the precum pearling on the head of Quatre's cock.

Quatre's head fell back and his eyes drifted shut with pleasure. "Oh, fuck, Heero!"

Heero paused, pulling back to look enquiringly up at him, mouth poised not an inch from Quatre's length. "Yes?" he asked, smirking.

Quatre clutched Heero's hair, pulling him forward. "Damn it, Heero, don't stop ... please! I need ..."

Heero smiled and engulfed Quatre's cock to the root.

Quatre screamed. The sudden hot, wet friction of Heero's mouth sliding smoothly up and down was indiscribable, and Heero's slick fingers probed at his ass, stroking and teasing. He nearly passed out with the pleasure. Quatre neither knew nor cared where or when Heero'd gotten the lube. He was torn between thrusting back onto that deliciously wicked finger that sent sparks dancing behind his eyes, or forward into Heero's incredibly talented mouth. His hands fisted in Heero's hair and he made incoherent noises of pure need as Heero widened him, slipping in two and then three fingers.

"Oh, Allah!" Quatre moaned, his breath growing short and his movements erratic. "I'm going to come!" He could feel the need pulling tighter and tighter low in his groin until he thought he would fracture with it.

And then it subsided slightly, as if Heero had placed a cock ring on him. That was impossible, though: Heero was still stroking himself with one hand and prepping Quatre with the other. Quatre could feel sharp spikes of pleasure each time Heero stroked the right spot inside him, though the sensation was not as franticly intense.

Then Heero pulled his fingers out, and let Quatre's cock slip slowly from his mouth. Before Quatre could protest - his need had subsided, not gone away altogether - Heero stood up and slipped off his silk pants, revealing a long, thick cock as hard as Quatre's.

"Come," he commanded, and lay down on the reclining couch, propping himself up with some pillows and leaning back slightly. There was enough room for Quatre to lie comfortably in front of him, and he did so, his back to Heero's chest. Looking forward, he was embarrassed to see his reflection clearly in the mirror.

Heero smiled, meeting Quatre's reflected eyes. "It is very erotic to watch yourself receive pleasure," he purred knowingly. He slipped his left arm under Quatre's and began tracing light circles on his chest with an oil Quatre hadn't seen him procure. His eyes never left Quatre's. Wherever Heero's fingers went, heat and need followed, and Quatre allowed his head to fall back against Heero's shoulder, his eyes drifting shut.

Heero, however, wouldn't let him look away. "Watch," Heero told him firmly, lifting Quatre's head with his right hand. When Quatre returned his gaze to the mirror, seeing the almost painful heat in his cheeks, Heero rewarded him by lightly teasing Quatre's neck with his mouth. His fingers were still doing wicked things to Quatre's chest. Slowly, they massaged their way down to Quatre's hips, and the blond watched, feeling the blood throb in his cheeks as Heero's fingers circled near his twitching cock. The touches were teasing, sensitizing Quatre's skin. Heero's eyes darkened with pleasure when Quatre began to moan, begging wordlessly for more. The darkness of Heero's hand against his pale skin seemed somehow sinful, and the things he was doing with it certainly were. The tightness in Quatre's groin was building again, and he could actually see himself grow harder.

Quatre could feel Heero behind him, his cock like velvet over steel pressing lightly against his anus, not quite slipping in, but close. Every needy twitch of Quatre's hips caused Heero's cock to brush against the sensitive nerve endings, and it was driving Quatre crazy. When Heero's left hand finally reached Quatre's weeping length, Quatre couldn't stand it any longer.

"Heero, he ordered, the sound more breathy than authoritative. "Fuck me now! Please!!"

Heero lifted his head up from Quatre's neck, and his eyes seemed to flash cobalt fire. "Yes," he hissed, the first verbal indication he'd given that his desire matched Quatre's. He thrust abruptly into Quatre, holding the blond's hips tightly.

Quatre may have screamed with pleasure; he wasn't sure. All he knew was that he was overcome with it, to the point of passing out. Sparks danced behind his eyes, and he thrust desperately into Heero's hand. It was as if he could feel Heero's pleasure as well as his own, as if he were both penetrator and penetrated. The fullness he felt inside him was indescribable, and he thought semi-coherently that it was no wonder his lovers had never protested being the bottom. The intensity of the feeling made every thrust of Heero's hips shoot an electric pulse right to Quatre's cock. Quatre's eyes were locked to the erotic picture they made, Heero's dark hands tight on the pale skin of Quatre's hips. "Oh please!" he moaned, only half aware he was saying anything at all. "Heero! Fuck me!"

He was so close to coming, and Heero seemed to sense this. His eyes ran possessively over Quatre's taut, slender, writhing body. "Come for me, Quatre," he whispered harshly, stroking the blond faster. "Let me feel your pleasure."

Quatre's hand flew up to grasp Heero's arm tightly as he came, feeling as if he were shattering into a million pieces. "Fuck!!" he screamed, his hips thrusting jerkily into Heero's hand. Heero followed him over the edge, a low, deep groan the only sound of his climax. Quatre collapsed in Heero's arms, completely spent.

When he woke up the next morning, Quatre couldn't quite remember what had happened next. He supposed he must have blacked out - he knew he'd never had a sexual encounter like that before, and it wasn't just because he was used to being the top. He thought he remembered Heero pulling out, a sated look on his face, but he wasn't sure whether he'd actually heard Wufei talking to another, an American with a light, amused voice. He suspected that might have been a dream, since he had no explanation for what the strange American should find so funny. And the lights he thought he remembered, the black and violet ones leading him home, must have been part of the dream, since they didn't make any sense otherwise. How he'd actually gotten home, Quatre had no idea. Perhaps they'd found his address in his wallet? Really, the liqueur Heero had given him must have been quite strong to have him feeling so bemused today. He was lucky he didn't have a hangover.

He turned over in the bed and met Trowa's green eyes with a start, and suddenly his lack of memory was an urgent problem. Frantically, he tried to recall what had happened when he came home. Had Trowa been there? Had Wufei and Heero brought him all the way in? Had Trowa seen them?!

Trying to calm his quickly beating heart, Quatre smiled tentatively at Trowa. "Good morning," he said uncertainly, waiting breathlessly for Trowa's reaction.

When his lover's lips curved in the half-smile that was so familiar to Quatre, he began to breathe again. "Good morning Cat," Trowa replied.

His voice sounded as serene as ever, and Quatre nearly collapsed with relief. "Look, Tro, about last night ..." He hesitated. Part of him wanted to confess everything and ask for absolution, but he couldn't handle the possibility of losing Trowa. He wasn't sure what had come over him last night, but he knew he loved the auburn-haired man. "Tro, I'm sorry. I should have known you'd never do anything with the purple-eyed guy ..."

A strange look passed over Trowa's face. "Duo," he interrupted.

Quatre wasn't sure how to interpret that look, and shame washed over him. What he'd accused Trowa of wanting with Duo, he'd gone out and done with Heero. "Duo, then," he continued, looking down at his fingers twisting in the bedspread. "Tro, I don't know what came over me." And that was more true than Trowa knew. "Forgive me?" He peeked up at his lover through blond bangs, hoping against hope that Trowa had no idea what had really happened to Quatre last night.

Trowa looked like he was going to say something, but he hesitated and brushed his auburn hair out of his eyes with a familiarly diffident gesture. Quatre felt his heart constrict. When Trowa's face went blank for a moment, his hair falling back into place over one eye, Quatre felt his heart stop completely.

After what seemed like an eternity to Quatre, however, Trowa finally spoke. "I forgive you," he said quietly.

Quatre's heart started beating again, and he barely managed to stop the relieved whoosh of breath leaving his mouth. As he gently brushed Trowa's hair back, revealing both bright green eyes, Quatre's smile was heartbreakingly beautiful. "Let's forget last night ever happened?"

Trowa smiled back, nodding, and Quatre felt the tightness around his gut relax. His secret was safe.


End file.
